


We Duel At Dawn

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Fluff, M/M, Nurse Arthur, fight me, loopy Merlin, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 06:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4128550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin was squinting at him, concentrating very hard. Arthur waited for him to say whatever it was he was thinking so hard about.</p><p>What he finally got was, “Fight me.”</p><p>Arthur was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. Merlin looked so determined, his chin up and eyes narrowed, but he was obviously still high as balls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Duel At Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Мы сразимся с тобой на закате](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204063) by [Rishima_Kapur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rishima_Kapur/pseuds/Rishima_Kapur)



> This fic, like so many others, was inspired by a tumblr post that had me up all night giggling. So then I just had to write about doped up belligerent patient Merlin and completely baffled but oddly charmed nurse Arthur. Thank you, anon, for prompting me to actually write it. It's painfully fluffy and I'm thrilled.

Arthur dodged a cart full of sundry medical supplies and rounded the corner tighter than he probably should have. It wasn’t really any surprise that he ran straight into Gwen. He caught her by the arms to keep her upright, laughing at the startled look on her face.

“Sorry about that,” he said with a grin that she had to return.

“ _You_ ,” she said, swatting his arm, “need to slow down. No running in the corridors.”

“Ah, but I’ve got things to do and places to be!”

“Speaking of,” Gwen said with a strangely sly tone that had Arthur narrowing his eyes in suspicion. She hooked an arm through his and started dragging him along, past the nurses’ station and into the post-op wing. “That boy in 903 still wants to fight you.”

Arthur groaned. “Does he really?”

“He really does,” Gwen confirmed. “And it’s only you. He doesn’t have any urge to challenge me or Freya or Will to a duel.”

“Just my luck to be stuck with the most belligerent patient.”

“He is not belligerent,” Gwen said. “He’s hopped on painkillers and barely coherent. He can hardly move.”

“And yet he’s still trying to fight me. How bad do you think he’ll be when the painkillers wear off? He’s gonna shiv me from behind!”

“You are being terribly melodramatic.”

“And you are enjoying this too much.” They turned a corner and Arthur saw room 903 straight ahead. He groaned even louder. “No, Gwen,” he said, drawing her name out as long as he could and not caring how whiny he sounded.

“He’s been asking for you,” she said in her most annoyingly sing-song voice.

“I hate you, Gwen.”

“I know you do, love.”

“It’s your fault if I end up dead because he sticks a scalpel in my back.”

“There is nothing sharp within reach of the bed. Promise.”

“Very reassuring, thanks.”

Gwen left him there, bouncing off to put in some time in the pediatrics wing, where she should have been the whole time. Likely she’d snuck off specifically to taunt Arthur about this. She was deceptively evil like that. Arthur shook his head and straightened his scrubs, bracing. Then he pushed open the door.

The boy was sprawled across the bed in a very strange contortion for someone who’d just had his appendix out. Arthur wasn’t sure how he’d managed to smush his face into the pillow while still technically lying on his back, but he’d done it. The blanket was trailing off the bed onto the floor and half the get-well cards on the little rolling table had been knocked over. The vase of flowers was still upright, thankfully.

Arthur checked the patient’s chart again. Merlin Emrys, age 22.

Merlin’s dark hair was an absolute mess, sticking up in every direction and looking something like a bird’s nest. He might have been drooling a little bit, but that was par for the course on these types of drugs. Merlin mumbled and twitched a bit in his sleep. Arthur snorted. He was sort of cute, in a hot-mess kind of way.

Merlin’s vital signs were all fine and he didn’t look to be in any pain or distress, so Arthur pulled the blanket up off the floor and set it to rights, tucking the edges in where he could. Merlin stirred, blinking his eyes open slowly. He caught sight of Arthur and immediately shook his head. He said something that came out very muffle by the pillow.

“What was that?” Arthur asked. He leaned closer.

This time he heard a very distinct, if slightly slurred, “ _Fight me_.”

Arthur almost facepalmed. It looked like Merlin was trying to scowl at him but it came across as more of a pout. Arthur wanted to be exasperated but really Merlin with that face on made it very difficult. He looked like nothing more than a grumpy kitten. Arthur tucked the blanket in tighter, ignoring another of Merlin’s demands for single combat.

“Not today, Merlin,” he said at the third challenge. “Maybe tomorrow, when you’re feeling better.” He had to bite back a smile when Merlin nodded groggily and promptly went back to sleep.

Freya was the next one to mention Merlin to him. Will rolling his eyes over her shoulder as he stuffed his face with probably-ill-gotten crisps.

“He was perfectly sweet to me,” she said. “A little loopy, of course, but polite and strangely affectionate. He asked me if I was purring once.”

“Were you?” Will asked with a lecherous wink.

“You’d have to pet the right way first,” she shot back, and Will choked on his crisp. She ignored his coughing fit in favor of Arthur. “I wonder what it is about you that’s got him so riled up.”

Arthur shrugged. “Beats me. He’s got guts, though, that’s for sure. He’s missing an organ but he’s ready to throw down anyway.”

“Yeah, well, something about your face just begs to get hit,” Will said.

“He’d be more likely to take me down than you would, Will,” Arthur said, slapping him in the chest with a case file as he passed him by.

Merlin was still drugged when he checked on him again a few hours later, but a bit more awake. He was sitting propped up, peering curiously at the controller he was holding very close to his face. He was flipping channels on the television but he seemed much more interested in watching the button move up and down as he pressed it.

“Good afternoon, Merlin,” Arthur said. “I need to check your bandages, if you don’t mind.”

Merlin blinked up at him slowly, his eyes not really focusing. Arthur took the controller from him and laid it down out of the way, shifting blankets and gowns out of the way of Merlin’s abdomen so he could examine him properly. Merlin let him, apparently still processing who he was. Once he realized it, he let out a noise of realization.

“You!” he said, trying to point at Arthur and ending up poking him in the shoulder. “You’re the nurse!”

“Yes, I am,” Arthur said. “One of the many.”

“You’re the pretty nurse,” Merlin specified.

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up. “If you say so,” he said, barely suppressing a laugh. Merlin was squinting at him, concentrating very hard. Arthur waited for him to say whatever it was he was thinking so hard about.

What he finally got was, “ _Fight me_.”

Arthur was hard-pressed not to laugh out loud. Merlin looked so determined, his chin up and eyes narrowed, but he was obviously still high as balls.

“I could take you apart with one blow.”

“I could take you apart with less than that,” Merlin said.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Arthur said, a little bit baffled.

Merlin tried to point again and ended up poking Arthur in the cheek this time. “Pretty,” he said absently. Then, “Fight me!” Again.

“Maybe later,” Arthur said, chuckling this time. “Later. After I check your bandages, okay?”

Merlin mumbled his consent to that arrangement, but he was asleep before Arthur had finished. Arthur watched him snore for a while with a marveling smile on his face before he continued his rounds.

The third time he checked on Merlin, he found a dark-haired woman in the chair next to his bed. Merlin was asleep again but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She looked up when he entered and smiled at him.

“You must be Arthur,” she said. “Freya said you’d be by soon.”

Arthur smiled at her. “I am. You’re Merlin’s mother, right? Hunith?”

Hunith nodded. Arthur filled her in on all the pertinent details of Merlin’s recovery and assured her that he was doing fine. In all likelihood, he’d be free to head home in a day or two. She thanked him warmly and offered him a biscuit from a tin she’d brought with her, which Arthur accepted gratefully.

Arthur set to checking Merlin’s bandages again, trying not to jostle him out of his slumber. Merlin grumbled and tried to push his hands away.

“It’s just me, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Just need to take a look.”

“Arthur,” Merlin said, turning towards him. He pointed a finger vaguely in the air without bothering to open his eyes. “ _Fight me_.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Alright, Merlin. I’ll fight you tomorrow. We’ll schedule a duel at dawn, how about that?”

Merlin nodded, smiling now. Arthur looked up to see Hunith positively shaking with laughter, a hand over her mouth. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her. She shook her head and put a finger to her lips and Arthur returned to his examination. When he’d finished, she followed him into the hall.

“I haven’t seen him do that in years,” she said once they were out of danger of waking him up.

“He’s been saying that all day,” Arthur told her with a chuckle of his own, her continued amusement rather infectious. “And only to me. What’s up with that?”

“It’s pigtail-pulling,” Hunith said, a twinkle in her eye. “He likes you.”

“He wants to fight me.”

“He wants to kiss you, is what he wants to do,” Hunith said firmly. Arthur stared at her.

“And that translates to fighting how exactly?” he asked.

“When Merlin was little, he didn’t realize that boys were allowed to like boys,” Hunith explained. “So when he fancied a boy, he didn’t know what to do about it. Boys weren’t supposed to like boys, they were supposed to be rough with boys. So he would get into fights with them instead.

“It wasn’t until I asked Merlin why he’d wanted to hurt Mordred, what Mordred had done to make him mad, that Merlin told me he hadn’t wanted to hurt Mordred at all. He’d wanted to kiss Mordred, but he wasn’t allowed to.”

Hunith gave Arthur a smile. “We had a talk after that, of course,” she said. “Got him all sorted out.”

“So Merlin wants to kiss me but doesn’t think he’s allowed?” Arthur asked, feeling heat creep up his cheeks.

“I hope that doesn’t make you uncomfortable,” Hunith said.

“No,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “Not at all. That’s, um...that’s really endearing, actually.”

Hunith patted Arthur on the cheek and went back inside to her son. Arthur stood smiling outside the door long enough for someone to bump into him.

Arthur didn’t see Merlin again until his next shift. By the time he got back around to Merlin’s room the next evening, Merlin was awake and mostly weaned off the pain meds. When he saw Arthur this time, Merlin’s face--and ears--went bright red. He promptly rolled over and buried his face in a pillow rather than look at him.

“Good evening, Merlin,” Arthur said brightly.

“Go ‘way,” came a muffled approximation of Merlin’s voice. “Merlin’s not here. He died of embarrassment.”

“That’s really too bad,” Arthur said, dragging a cart in behind him. “Dead men don’t get jello.”

“Don’t want jello. ‘M dead, ‘member?”

“Still up for that duel at dawn?” Arthur asked, and Merlin let out a melodramatic groan of misery that had Arthur biting his fist to keep from cracking up.

“Shut  _up_ ,” Merlin said. “I know my mother told you, you utter clotpole.”

“Well, to be fair, you’d already called me pretty,” Arthur said. “Twice. So I probably could have figured it out on my own.”

Merlin pulled the pillow out from under his face so he could cover his head with it entirely. Arthur plucked the pillow out of his hands.

“Come on. Up you get. You need to get some food in you, dead man or not.”

Merlin grumbled but managed to get himself sorted out in the right direction again, moving much more gingerly now that he wasn’t pumped full of painkillers. His cheeks were still a fetching shade of pink as he took the jello Arthur offered him. He ate quietly while Arthur tidied up the room and checked his vitals and such.

Before he left, Arthur dropped a napkin on the table in front of Merlin. Merlin looked at the numbers on it in confusion. Arthur leaned in the doorway, grinning.

“Call me sometime,” he said. “If you still wanna fight.”

Merlin went red again, but he was smiling this time. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Arthur whistled to himself all through the rest of his rounds. At least until Will tried to stick gauze down his throat to make him shut up. And even that didn’t ruin his good mood.

 


End file.
